+/- :: Volume 3 by TJ Norris

The fourteen piece Transatlantic Art Ensemble, led by Roscoe Mitchell
on soprano sax make some fine noise. The highly lauded Mitchell is one
of the world’s foremost abstract jazz composers, and this selection of
nine interwoven works, recorded in 2004, tell his history. It tumbles,
rumbles and whispers, it wails and bellows. Composition/Improvisation
Nos. 1, 2 & 3 paints a wild, yet saavy picture of our striated sense
of universal change. The melodious notes he plays speak from worn lips
telling bittersweet stories, in fact, there’s a passionate melancholy
bolstered by a backing ensemble nimbly gyrate through Mitchell’s
shattered, scattered blowing, around wiggly projections and roads less
travelled. It’s something of a collected circus chaos that bleeds
delicately into a faded watercolor of the buried sea. [Purchase]

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Portugese guitarist and electronic composer Rafael Toral delivers a
stuntifying new release based in space. To accomplish this he’s
employed filters, empty circuits and feedback, sparsely construed to
make for a minimalist collage that pops, hides away and squeaks as if
repelling a wooden floor in rubber soles. Toral is equipped with a
board full of effects that he then fashions like a clown twisting
balloons into poodles, though the result is far more contagious.
There’s something as sinister, but not as, er, clownish to these
bloated antics. By manipulating various gassy overtures, sliding and
stretching them into new sound shapes it becomes aural cinema. The
faster he works the more removed and expressionist the sounds of
‘Space Solo 1’ become. And yes he leaves room for open air white noise
that’s pretty hush. But not too much, as there’s a sense of antsy,
frictitious disorder at play. “Echo Feed” plays into the whole notion
that life may exist outside our perception with its nod to 50’s
b-movie elongated bleeps and warm vortex exterior, built for two. [Purchase]

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Low are back. Drums and Guns has got the raw spirit one might expect
during wartime. While so many “Pretty People” are out there jazzingly
distracting us with their never-ending booty call stage antics this is
an uncertain quirky alarm call to arms. To hear something like this
from a longstanding threesome who actually have built a home in the
realm of the avant garde is uneasy these days. Mind you, this is
probably their most accessible record to date, and they sound great
here, and focus more on crafting songs with strings alongside
electronics. The bass is self-evident. “Breaker” recalls the rootsy
ramble in some early, less righteous, pre-MTV Peter Gabriel. They seem
straight-forward, caressing the wounded in acoustic caress, by
dispelling their personal maybes in a distillation of truths.
Harkening to the stance of a myriad of legendary drum and bugle corps,
they cleverly admit beats as well as smart lyricism. The band seems
poised to fall between the intersection driving forces like Bjork and
Spiritualized, without bells and buzz. The record is pretty stark and
elemental until track six of thirteen where “Always Fade” adds some
warm percussion and broken electronica which swirls around the vocals
of two singers. This makes for something a bit distinctive, and less
of another homage to age old Dylan-like anthemic stylings. The record
plays like a poker faced reality rich in the same tonal qualities once
heard from the 4AD label. Phrasing like “Always a whisper, worthless
and tender. Breaking my arm that won’t heal” prove their may still be
poetry in the arena of independent music. The disc comes housed with a
colorful picture book that illustrates the mood by Jimi Sides. [Purchase]

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Nijmegen’s duo Beequeen (Frans de Waard and Freek Kinkelar) release a
compilation of 23 various works recorded since 1989. Certainly one of
the more notable experimental outfits of the last two decades, this
collection numbingly sets a certain tone (or atones) both to the past
and future. There’s a delicate balance of low chords breaking into
dark ambient space (“Does He Do As If He Is”) from their 1994
recording ‘Split’. You’re in the dark, someone is casting a vague echo
while slowly bowing a cello, you see a faint light. There is this
sense of passing figures, black on black shadowy movements hinted at
in your peripheral view. At points queasy, others like your spinning
in a Spanish villa for just a dazzling moment (“Fond II”). They firmly
use the guise of industrialisms to build the droning layers of works
like “Land Above Us” which has both a sense of open continuum and
repeat cycle that can, for many, become unnerving. Though, they do so
with a certain grace that kind of rounds the corners of chaos. The
final stage of production, so to speak. And the point is clear, these
two men have built a passionate body of work that is at once striking
for its qualities emulating the codec of film, secondly they have used
that motif to concoct music which is out of the personal body, told
from the vantage point of the other. And third, it takes you some
place you may have not dared, distinctively told with a fusion of
pace, timing, fore/background. Then there are these themes of
meditation, observation, then realization. When you sample tracks like
“Brasillian Fond” (1989), you are just barely eavesdropping by way of
the slight incorporated field recordings. Part mysterious travelogue,
part staging for how you might compose music to send to navigate the
hole in the ozone and then into the deep universe to cultivate answers
to its questions. The work of Beequeen simply trips the mind.

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Karl Hyde and Rick Smith are back after several years where they
toured and parted with their former label, V2. Here the duo continues
their fully produced wide-open dancefloor wash of warm rhythms and
beats galore. The lead in cut, “Crocodile” sounds like an immediate
hit, though with a few grungier and vocal dynamics in today’s mix how
will these gents compete? First, they have a world class sensibility
of what people are physically move to. They’ve proven themselves live
over and again, and this collection of bright tracks really captures
the spirit of how arms and hair and torsos dart between the sweat of
light and the darker chords of chillout. This is plain on “Good
Morning Cockerel” where the sweet tinkling piano plays to Hyde’s
unplugged, no-nonsense vocal. Back in June Smith was injured by
baseball bat wielding hoodlums during a concert at the Ejekt Festival
in Athens, though it sounds like these gents have made it back firmly
to their feet. A lot of what appears here is balanced by the
construction of song structures as opposed to the pure dance work of
some of their former work. This harkens to similar strategies made by
other electronic colleagues like Moby, Chemical Brothers and others in
the recent past. “Boy, Boy, Boy” sounds more like what you may hear in
a White Stripes pop song as opposed to late night in Ibiza. And then
there’s “Ring Road” which features the beloved Brit-rap they came to
fame on the wave of. It’s dressed down, almost spoken. Add some
skeletal percussion and the beat is basic, bridged by a beautifully
slightly vocoded chorus. It’s thick and in the trends set by
themselves, De La Soul, Soul Coughing and a handful of others
lip-serving the masses at one moment or another. The nice surprise
here is ‘Faxed Invitation’ built on the mechanical mutations of an old
machine that transmits messages. Their message is all kept on the warm
down-low. The funky dance hooks are in “Holding the Moth” though
they’ve hurdled some of their catchiest phrases for a larger focus on
the vocal throughout. For that look to “Beautiful Burnout.” The title
says it all in that which amply re-uses some of their classic flow,
and will surely be the dance single for what it’s worth, which is more
than two bits (or is that bytes)? [Purchase]

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Developed from a series of live shows over two years, Guillaume Graux
sorts out seven tracks that source the sounds from his laptop with
mastering by Yves De Mey. The result is dense, cryptic and punctuated
with clicks and pops encrusted with electronic noise and space as
heard on the rambunctious “Insomnia.” Elsewhere on Shallow Water
Blackout (a loss of consciousness caused by the lapse of breath)
there is hazy dulling set of harmonies, pale as a blue sky at high
noon, effectively in mid November when the chill has just set in full
on. The mix of assorted tones are intertwined on “Lady Jane.” Fingers
to strings like spider to web, a nervousness arises and dissipates,
leaving a warm stretched passage that meanders in speed and density.
Yet there’s still room for the branding of chunky noise on “Stillnox
Parties” which sounds like a factory in full production as interpreted
through teletype. Like a haphazard collision between Merzbow and Kim
Cascone, this recording jumps around a rock and a hard place. Solid in
fearless tracks like “Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through” which cranks
out a gyrating percussive beat that rolls and rocks, through colliding
distortion and a raspy undertone. Hard in its edgeless
experimentation. This is an impressive second full length challenge of
any basic formula.

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Well oiled, to a patina perhaps unlike any other avant band ever out
of Germany, Einstürzende Neubauten decided to release this latest
ten-track collection on their own accord. With lyrics by resident
spoken croonster Blixa Bargeld, the band offers a heavy piano on
opener “Die Wellen.” Building and building with their signature
percussion, things slowly come to a crescendo and close abruptly. It’s
dramatic, alive. The record continues with the clip-clop of “Nagorny
Karabach” which sounds like an intimate, dusty travelogue. Since the
early 80’s this quartet have offered a wide angled discography with
fiery experimentation that never seems to cut itself short from
beating its own drum(s). That outcome has provided amazing work like
the powerful tin beats as heard on “Weil Weil Weil” alongside a
spirited vocal by Bargeld and other electronics and a barrage of amped
samples. It’s probably the best “song” for them in years. It’s got a
contained structure. All sung in German, their sound, gutteral,
poker-faced and at times poking fun at itself, becomes another
instrument telling a story for any ears, bilingual or not. Elsewhere
on Alles Wieder Offen you’ll find field recordings mixed down as on
“Von Wegen” which is a cross between an acoustic folk rock number with
the vestiges of a operatic prelude. But when the percussive beat
blends in things become more uncalculated. And this is what these
gents are known for. Taking it way out. The title track starts like
something from 80s new wave, with a noir Nick Cave-like vocal. Rhyme
may have a reason. Most lovely here I must point out “Susej” which
something of an industrial love song. Posing in a bit of a whisper
over the clink of a repetitive beat that comes and goes with dramatic
flair. [Purchase]

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This is an explosive barrage of droning guitars and percussion. It
cranks and careens and crashes and burns. There is a broad peripheral
soundscape here, something drown in amplification and its absorption
of everything in its path. Not loud for the sake of it either, there’s
more of a twisted containment of an abundance of noise junk, being
controlled and manipulated with a keen construction. The flailing
metallic jamboree of brass and small explosions breathe from inner
earth. This hour is split in near even quadrants, so it’s as if you
are listening to an aural play in part. The volume shifts, but there
is a beating that is constant, blurry at points then open and raw in
others. By part three they are in a quieter space, wider, more about
harmonies in the atmospheric strings, and the chamber music crated by
the din of the background. A pale sense of sadness in the air rides
towards the final track when things become nearer and clearer.
Actually, this is done with a stretched drone that is as balancing as
it is menacing. The long washes of guitar are mixed and filtered like
light fading into a distant valley. But that is edged out by the
clamor of heavy bass and distortion at midpoint which continues its
path until the very last minute where things settle with the sense of
a angered, mysterious cliffhanger. [Purchase]

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Here’s a debut from an Icelandic producer who has worked with Bjork,
Sigur Rós, Coco Rosie, among others. The sounds are wafting delicacies
with strings and breezy buzz, music boxes all intertwined with guest
vocals and other sensitive arrangements. Symphonic strings with
breaks, recalling the soundtrack for Dancer in the Dark which he
worked on with Bjork are evident on the sauntering stop/start of
“Focal Point.” The harmonies are bright and flickery. “Baby Architect”
with J. Walker has a rambling, cut-up feel to it, like they are
humming along inside a machine that is slicing tiny portions and
feeding it back. There’s a warmth throughout the entire record that
spills softly. At times this sounds like a lost record from the 70’s
hidden rock opera vault as peaked at in tracks like “Winter Sleep”
with its Craig Armstrong-like overtures and ambient texturing. Dawn
McCarthy’s voice is a lovely addition that makes for something
brightly birdlike. As I listen the sounds fade away, on the
romanticized “Equilibrium is Restored.” It’s a passage to a small
gazebo in a forest, among nature, a recital with passing minstrels,
and light faire. Ekvílibríum is a floating and dreamy record that
suggests taking a much needed, contemplative pause from our
advertising saturated, overproduced daily speed culture. Charming. [Purchase]

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This tight threesome of tracks collects a piece each recorded in 2003,
04 and recently in 07 – each with the concept of sounds that are
cylindrical, emulating music boxes, player pianos or other motorized
sound machines. Ethan Rose has been busy at work recording film
soundtrack work with Gus Van Sant in between touring with his band
Small Sails, and when he has the wherewithall even creates sound-based
art installations. Here are some of the sounds that have not quite
fallen between the cracks. Starting with the tinkling ringing metallic
harmonics of “Singing Tower” which was recorded at Stanford University
and manipulated from an automated carillon. Rose is fascinated by the
potential of re-using these archaic instruments of yesteryear that
didn’t need a human to play them. He shows his penchant by taking
their sources throughout this recording and filtering, modifying and
otherwise completely reinventing their wheels. The results are powdery
washes of ambient drones, undulating rhythms that bend above and
around the listener. It’s quite mesmerizing and centering. On “…the
dot and the line…” he’s used a series of player pianos and subteley
coarse sound effects that carress the edges of the surface. The piano
is distant as though a lone player is practicing in the dulling divide
of another room. The earliest work here, “Miniature & Sea” sources
optical film readers as well as small music boxes to obtain a
figure-in-the-attic ghostly effect. There is a certain hollow that air
whistles through steadily like a police siren a few blocks away, or
the faded screech of roman candles in July. The pulse breaks the
cyclical frame of the piece nicely, and shifts to a meandering sound
haiku of sorts. The piece eventually roars like a passing train at a
nosehair away until things slowly degenerate into a clump of
austerity. [Purchase]

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Kick it Genesis (and crew)! From the climbing opening righteous
rocker “Higher and Higher” to the wee notes of “Milk Baba” this really
explodes all over the place. A bit with the vengeance of 80’s bands
like Love & Rockets, Icicle Works and others who focused more on the
guitar than on the synthesizer. Jammed in here through smart samples
and sound effects are some real pop rock gems, without the trite
structure of bridge, chorus et al. For example, “In Thee Body” starts
like some industrial dirge that spins into a jamming guitar with a
spoken word vocal questioning the reality of the self in the body. It
meanders just long enough to bring about a streaming of consciousness
of the listener, then brings you back. It darkly rambles about, partly
unrecognizable lyrics, chantlike to a degree. A rock anthem or sacred
code? On “Maximum Swing” the bold tribal percussion is blurs the
buried, gutteral Tom Waits-style vocal which spouts “She could take
the poison from a bee sting…She can pull the feathers off a black
angel wing”. It’s high tone attitude, aha. “New York Story” is their
out loud, hazy-dazy nod to Velvet Underground, tamborine and all.
Serrated strings and shoegazer crooning mixes rightly with the
saltiness of it all in a similar style heard primarily from bands like
Spiritualized. And then there’s the near trance-like “Hooka Chalice”
which transgresses the whole variance of PTV stylings, from noir
visualizations to chamber music until it blows the roof off the mother
about a minute and a half in. Wow. Unexpected grinder totally nailed.
A riot in all senses of the word. [Purchase]

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Sawako has been making soft, atmospheric works for the last few years
and this is of the same ilk. Where things seem to grow is in the
overall sense of composition. The sounds are less ‘tiny’ sounding, and
roll around in space more fluidly. She’s managed to tour and play
live, and the spatial plane here has been effected by a growth in a
greater sense of spatial sound management. The whispers on “August
Neige” sound channeled like apparitions rather than a collaged
patchwork of added sounds in the mix, there is an overall sense of
fusion in the way she is now layering and laying it all down. The
ambience is perfectly mood setting, then building. There’s this sense
of an endless lagoon of sensuous, cool water rippling, a fine mist on
a hot day, and this sated feeling to the tips of your being. “Appled
Soapbox” is a warped piece with an indistinguishable voice sample that
repeats in and outside itself. Throughout Sawako hints generously at
the landscape of her native Japanese roots with themes of quietude and
balance.

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+/- :: Volume 1 by TJ Norris +/- :: Volume 2 by TJ Norris MICROVIEW :: Volume 18 By TJ Norris MICROVIEW :: Volume 2 By TJ Norris MICROVIEW :: Volume 14 By TJ Norris